


Home for Christmas

by sammys_grl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammys_grl/pseuds/sammys_grl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes awhile, but Sam and Dean finally have a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for Christmas

(December 2005, flashback)

They were hunting a Rougarou.  Sam had done some research and they left to do what they do best.   Not much lore existed on the creatures other than they were similar to werewolves and wendigos, so a silver laced flare should do the trick.  Great plan, until they realized there were two of them.  The first one went down, Sam having shot it dead on with the flare gun.  Then they heard the second one.  It was on them in a heartbeat, simultaneously throwing both of them. Sam hit hard against a tree and Dean landed some fifty feet away.  Even seeing double, Sam saw it heading for Dean.  

“No …not gonna happen….” he groaned, forcing himself to focus. 

“Hey ugly, over here!” Sam yelled, thanking God it turned. 

“That’s it…come and...get me...bitch,” he managed, struggling with his words. But it was coming at him quick.  Sam rolled onto his side, his head and shoulder screaming at him to stop, and fired.  He watched as the animal exploded, then he collapsed.  

Dean always hated coming to, as it was always a bitch.  His first thought was of Sam, the second was of pain, cuz his fucking ribs hurt. 

“Sammy!” Dean shouted, his frenzied voice cutting through the silence of the night. 

 Nothing . 

“Sammy, answer me!!”  

Still nothing . 

Ignoring the pain and trying not to panic, Dean was up and moving toward the last place he remembered seeing Sam, the group of trees to his right.  

“Sammy, damn it!” Dean swore, seeing him slumped against the small bank of ground they had used as cover.  He was quickly at his brother’s side, kneeling down, feeling Sam’s neck for a pulse.  He let out the breath he had been holding as he found it, weak and thready, but still there.  

“That’s a good boy Sammy; can you open those eyes for me?” he asked, rubbing his hand across Sam’s cheek, but getting no response. 

He leaned in closer and moved Sam so he was resting on his legs.  He felt cold, too cold. “Come on Sammy, wake up for me.”  

“Hmmm,” was all he got, but Sam did try to open his eyes. 

“Sam, I need you to open your eyes now,” Dean told him, making it more of an order than request. 

Sam groaned again and forced his eyes open a little.  Fuck, did his head hurt, and his shoulder? Well that was a whole new level of pain.  “De-, what…you okay?” 

“I’m good, don’t worry. There were two of them; second one nailed us before we nailed it. You got it though.”  Dean was thanking whatever gods there were in this forsaken place that they were alive.

“Had to…going for you…to hurt you.” Okay, Sam thought, it was good that Dean said he wasn’t hurt and he was talking to him.  He was trying to focus, but he really wanted to close his eyes again.  He groaned and was fading out mumbling “you…okay …two” as he let his eyes close. 

“No no, Sammy, we gotta get you back to the car, so you have to help me okay?  No response.  “Sammy, stay with me!” Dean said, shouting a little. 

“Right here, don’t yell, it hurts,” Sam responded, his voice barely a whisper. 

They were Winchesters, and it was so not good that Sam was admitting to being in pain.   Winchesters sucked it up and moved on.  Except now, apparently Sam couldn’t.  That was bad and Dean needed to get them out of here. He couldn’t take care of him here. 

“We need to get up now Sam,” he ordered, and Dean was moving him again. 

 Could he just not do that? Sam thought as his entire body protested the concept, and then Dean stood up.   

“Sam, I’m gonna lift you up, try to get your feet under you, okay?"  He braced himself before pulling Sam up and propping him against the tree.  Sam’s entire body shuddered with pain from the movement.  

“Dean I...it...” Sam bit his lip. Even as bad as this was, he hated letting on that it hurt so much.  

“I know Sammy, try and breathe through it.”  He gave Sam a few moments to adjust to standing then added “it’s just a little way to the car.  Can you do that?”  He would carry him out if he had to, but that might hurt him more than walking. 

Sam stood there, the world spinning, focusing everything on just pulling it together.  Groaning out a “yeah” was the best he was going to do. 

It was too dark to really assess the damage, but Dean knew Sam’s shoulder was bad.  His arm was hanging at an odd angle and Sam was trying to protect it.  The back of his jacket was wet with a dark, spreading stain that had to be blood.  Dean leaned Sam against his body and moved him as gently as he could.  Biting back the pain in his body, Sam forced himself to move along with Dean.  The good thing about pain is that it tends to keep you conscious; the bad thing is, well, it hurts like hell.  They had managed to make it back to the car without Sam collapsing, but inside the car however, he dropped against the door.  Dean did his best to keep the car steady on the way back to their motel, but Sam was whimpering most of the way.  It was killing Dean to hear him and he did his best to comfort him. 

“Its okay baby, we’re almost there,” he said softly, putting his hand gently on Sam’s knee. “Just stay with me for a few more minutes, okay Sammy?”  

“k-kay” was Sam's mumbled reply.  He really was trying, but he needed to just not move and pass out.  Yeah, that would really help.  He could barely formulate words between the throbbing in his head and the pain in his shoulder. 

Dean left Sam in the car while he got the room open.  He pulled the blankets down and went back to the car. “Come on Sammy, time to move.”  Sam managed a weak nod and tried to move, but he just didn’t have enough strength and he slid into Dean’s arms. 

Getting them into the room as quickly as he could, Dean maneuvered Sam to the bed and gently laid him down.  He hastily brought in their duffels, secured the door and windows, laid fresh salt lines, and put the weapons within easy reach. Protection had to come first, even though it was killing him to do it and let Sam suffer a second longer. 

Sam just wanted the world to go away.  Everything hurt, any movement sent pain washing over him, he kept hearing a noise in the background, only to realize that it was him moaning and despite his desire to stop, he couldn’t. 

Dean had finished and turned the small bedside lamp on, cringing when he looked at Sam in the light.  He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sam and brushed the blood streaked hair from his eyes.  He had a long gash on the side of his forehead that was still oozing blood.  He cupped his head and felt the back for knots, finding two and more blood.  Sam whimpered at the pressure on the worst of the lumps. 

“Sshh baby,” Dean spoke, kissing Sam's face gently, trying to comfort him.  

Sam just relinquished himself to Dean for the ritual inspection.  He was pretty much dazed and confused anyway.  Dean frowned when Sam’s pupils were a bit sluggish; a concussion meant pain meds were risky. Not yet knowing the extent of his other injuries, Dean decided to just cut his shirt off.   He was already sporting several bruises and Dean could now see the source of the blood.  There was another wound down Sam’s shoulder.  Dean barely touched the injury and Sam yelped, raspy breaths begging him to stop “just….don‘t please!” as the sharp pain moved through him. 

“I’m sorry Sammy, try and breathe, I’m right here," Dean soothed, rubbing Sam’s temple.  Gently getting up, he grabbed the kit and fished out a small vial.  Drawing up the liquid, he carefully took Sam’s hand and pricked the needle into his vein.  Just enough morphine so Sam wouldn’t be in agony.  It was a risk he needed to take since Sam’s shoulder was dislocated and needed more than a few stitches.  

Sam settled as the ordeal and the morphine quickly combined to put him in a haze.  It even took him a minute to realize that Dean was talking to him again.  “I’m going to have to move you.  I’ll do all the work, just let me,” Dean was saying. 

Sam wanted to acknowledge him, wanted to say ‘okay, do it’ but he couldn’t.  He just didn’t have the strength to form words or even move a hand to give a signal.  He just barely nodded his head and shuddered. 

Dean carefully rolled Sam onto his side and placed himself so his knees were in the middle of his back to support him.  He gently ran his hand along his brother’s collarbone, trying to feel a break.  Nothing moved so, not broken, but the shoulder was definitely dislocated.  

Sam was moaning again from all the movement.  He had buried his face into a pillow and his breathing was ragged. 

Dean stopped for a moment and just whispered sweet nothings and hummed in his ear. “Shhh, I’m sorry Sammy, I know it hurts. Just a few more minutes and you can sleep, I promise. I love you, baby.”   He kept whispering “love you” as he braced Sam against his knee and pulled.  The shoulder went in as Sam cried into the bed.  He knew Dean didn’t want to hurt him, but he begged him again “Please… stop” His voice was hoarse and breaking.  Despite the morphine, Sam just couldn’t take anymore. 

“No more, Sammy, I’m sorry….”  Dean had tears running down his cheeks.  

He knew how much that hurt.  Sam had put Dean’s shoulder back in more than once and they were both too good at it.  Dean gently rubbed his back, continuing to talk to him, and waited.  If he did anything else right now the pain might short circuit something so he waited for Sam’s breathing to settle. Once he calmed slightly, Dean moved from behind him and quickly finished examining the rest of him. “I’m gonna get a towel Sammy, be right back,” he told him, and left Sam on his side since he was going to need to do those stitches. 

Dean washed Sam’s wounds as gently as he could.  First with soap and water, then a holy water bath.  Stitch by stitch, he slipped the needle through the skin, wiping away the blood as he went until the wounds were closed.  He talked softly as he went.  The words were as much a distraction for him as they were for Sam.  They helped him forget that this was his Sammy he was working on; forget how close he came again to losing him.  They helped Sam focus on something; stay grounded to the only thing that mattered, his Dean. Fifteen minutes and twenty stitches later, he was done. He dressed the wounds and wrapped Sam’s shoulder tightly to his body.  Sam had faded in and out of consciousness, mumbling to Dean.  When he finished, Dean leaned down and gently kissed him, whispering “I love you.” 

Sam barely heard him and really couldn’t process what he said   He felt himself shivering and really losing control. 

Dean grabbed the blankets and wrapped Sam up.  He held him until he stopped shaking and had finally passed out. 

Hoping he had awhile before Sam might wake up, Dean stripped and turned on the shower.  He was still dirty and needed to check his own wounds. 

He left the door open just in case so he could hear Sam and leaned his head against the shower wall, just letting the hot water cascade over him.  God that felt good.  He hadn’t realized how cold and sore he was until now.   He ran the night's events over in his head and tried to calm down. With all those thoughts still swirling in his head, he finished his shower, bandaged his wounds, and went back to Sam.  He moved in beside him and carefully draped his arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him gently into his own body.  Sam groaned slightly at the movement, but settled quickly not really regaining consciousness, but sensing Dean was holding him again.  Dean wasn’t sure if he was holding Sam for his comfort or his own.  He needed to feel Sam breathing next to him and feel his warmth to convince himself Sam was there.  Dean would let him rest awhile longer, then check him to be sure he was still at least semi-coherent.  After checking on Sam every few hours for most of the night, Dean let himself sleep.  He was exhausted, and Sam had known his name and how old he was four times now. 

Dean woke when he felt Sam shift next to him and moan a little.  Light was just beginning to filter into the room.  Dean stroked Sam’s hair and hugged him closer.  “Hey, baby, you back with me?”  Dean murmured, still half asleep himself.  

Sam nodded and felt the room shift.  Okay, moving is still not good, he thought.  

“You okay Dean?  I really don’t …” his voice was trailing off.  “I’m…” 

“Everything is fine.  You’re safe.  You really got the worse end of the deal.” Dean was still holding him close, talking softly.  “You have a concussion and I had to put your shoulder back where it belongs.” 

“I remember ….hurt…” 

“I’m sorry babe…” he choked, tears forming in his eyes again. 

“Not your fault. …I’ll ….just give me a minute.” 

“Relax Sammy. You need to rest, and I’m going to take care of you.” Kissing him gently, Dean pulled Sam’s head to his chest and gently rubbed his temples.  Sam was a bit concerned that this was a little chick-flickish, but he was so tired and Dean’s hands felt blissfully good that he just slipped back into sleep. 

He slept most of the day, waking long enough to look worriedly at Dean’s bruised chest and eat a little.  That evening, Sam was restless, shifting frequently in an attempt to get comfortable. Figuring the concussion was at least stable, Dean tried to get him to take something for the pain, but Sam refused.  

“I’ll live…it's better than it was.”  

“Lying doesn’t work on me, remember?” Dean said, holding his hand out with two pain pills. 

“Fine.” Sam gave in, knowing it was a losing battle. He took the pills with some water, nestled next to Dean as comfortably as he could and was shortly asleep.  Dean watched over him most of the night, sleeping only when he was sure Sam was out. 

Dean woke to find Sam curled into him as much as his injuries would allow.  He watched him for a few minutes as he felt his brother waking up.  “Hey, how you feeling Sam?”  

Sam blinked a few times, trying to focus, and found amazingly that he was feeling a little better.  “Better, not so intense now.  Are you hurt?” 

“Nah, just some bruises, nothing I haven’t had before.” 

“Then what you are thinking about? I can feel you brain working.” 

“Nothing, just close your eyes. I want you to rest,” Dean responded as he rubbed circles on Sam’s back. 

“I am resting, on my favorite pillow, now talk.” 

Dean sighed, Sam was not letting go.  “Sammy, I just want…I…” he trailed off, unable to find the words. 

“Dean, it’s me.  Just take your time and tell me.” 

“I almost lost you.  I....” His emotions were too close to the surface.  Dean was starting to tremble at the picture in his mind. 

“Dean, I’m right here.”  He slid his hand into Dean’s and held it tight.  He could feel Dean gripping back like he was holding on for his life.  He waited for Dean to continue. 

Taking a deep breath, he went on. “Sammy; I’ve hunted since I was a kid and it’s all I know.  Maybe…I want …” Dean had tears in his eyes looking down at Sam’s head on his chest.  He couldn’t do this right now.  “I just have some things to figure out.  Just give me some time and then we'll talk about it.  I promise.”  Then he just held on to Sam. 

Okay the promise word.  Sam knew Dean never broke a promise to him so he relaxed a little and for once decided he could let this go.  “Dean, baby, I love you,” he said as he kissed the back of his hand.  “Talk to me when you’re ready.  I’ll be right here.” 

Dean leaned down, pulled Sam’s chin up and kissed him like he had never kissed him before.  It was tender, hungry, passionate, and desperate.  Dean had never been desperate for anything, but he was for Sam.  Sam tangled his tongue with Dean’s until they both needed to breathe and he was going to pass out.  Dean realized what he was doing as Sam broke the embrace and Dean thought he hurt him.  Sam saw it in his eyes and cut him off before he could say anything.

 “Damn, that makes a man feel better!” And Dean smiled a little. 

“Go back to sleep Sammy, I love you too.”  

Sam was already well on his way as Dean cradled him. 

It was awhile before Dean let sleep claim him.  He was working things over in his head while listening to Sam breathe slow and steady.  Dean knew what he was thinking was unrealistic. The hunt was still on, but they could be relatively safe somewhere and still do what needed to be done.  Bobby had done it, why couldn’t they?  He needed to make some calls.  Trying to make a home, or at least a home base, was something in Sam’s area of expertise, all chick-flick and girly.  Hell, Dean didn’t even know if he could stay in one place longer than a few days since he had always forced the idea away.  He knew Missouri and Bobby would help make this right, what he didn’t know is that it would be easier than he thought. 

The events of that night a little over a year ago were playing out in Dean’s head like a movie as he drove on the darkened highway.  They had spent the next two weeks in that dingy motel while Sam healed.  Their Christmas was there and consisted of the two of them, some beer, and Ramen noodles for dinner.  Sam never complained, never once asked for anything more, and wrapped himself around Dean that night saying that Dean was his gift.  That had solidified his resolve to make his idea work and give Sam a gift he deserved.  He had taken a year to bring this gift to fruition.  This was not a simple gift that could be bought from a store and wrapped with shiny paper.  Nope, if he was going to give his Sammy something, it was going to be the one thing he had never had and always wanted.  A bedroom and the home that went with it.   

Christmas was rounding the corner again, and this year they were not going to be in some cheap motel.  Sam thought they were going to Maine to track down a black dog since Bobby had called them yesterday and asked them to check it out. Dean knew it was a cover for him, Sam however didn’t have a clue and just smiled when Dean told him it was time to move on.  He was pleased at how well it worked as he drove, watching the road and glancing at Sam curled toward him on the seat sleeping.  Alone with his thoughts he reflected over the previous year, still amazed that this actually worked and hoping it was going to be the best Christmas in memory for the Winchester boys.    

He came to realize just how good their few friends were when he took the giant leap and asked them what to do.  He told himself he wasn’t asking for him, but for Sam so that made it easier for him to make the calls.  Asking for help was, after all, a weakness in the eyes of their father and so ingrained into him that it was one of the hardest things he had done.  But none of their friends had looked down at him, or refused anything they could do for them.  Bobby had simply told him to call Missouri; she would be able to make it happen.  Confused, he called her and quietly explained what he wanted.  Just a small place, safe and secluded, no matter if it needed work.  When he finished, she had gotten very quiet.  For a moment, Dean got nervous, thinking he’d been wrong. When she finally spoke, she gave him the news that she could find them a perfect place and not to worry about paying for it.  She quietly explained that John had taken care of that with a life insurance policy.  John had given her explicit orders that they were only to know about the money if they were in trouble or wanted a home.  She had argued with him that they should know about it until he threatened to name someone else as beneficiary.  Not trusting anyone else to look after her boys, she finally promised him and when he sacrificed himself, she collected the money and invested it for them, for the day when they would want more than a life on the road.  She had done a very good job and had watched it grow to a sizeable sum. They weren’t rich, but they could live comfortably for a long time.  Dean was stunned; how could he not have known about that?  He always knew his dad was secretive, but this was too much.  A few weeks later, Missouri had called saying she had found a small home deep in the North Maine Woods and if Dean liked what he saw from the photos she emailed, the deal could be done.  When Dean saw the photos, ‘liked’ wasn’t the word.  Dean loved the place and hoped Sam would, too. 

He hadn’t been able to be part of what had gone on except through the occasional email, since that would ruin the surprise for Sam, but he knew that it would be perfect.  Bobby had done the wards and Missouri cleansed the entire place just to be sure that it would be safe.  Most of the house would still be pretty sparse in décor since Dean really wanted to make it a home with Sam, but between Missouri and Bobby, they had all the necessities and the bedroom was done.  For that room, all they had asked of him were the colors, textures, and type of wood and then they took it from there.   

Missouri had mailed a key to him in care of the last motel they stayed at and in a few short hours, he would be pulling up to their new home. Truth be told, he was more nervous now than he had ever been fighting anything evil. This was all new territory for him, and he desperately wanted it to be perfect for them.  Sam needed this and so did he. 

Dean had followed the directions from Bobby and eventually turned up a road leading to their house.  When he finally saw it, sitting nestled in a clearing of pine trees, he felt himself shake.  This was way out of his comfort zone.  

 Sam felt the car stop moving and sat up, looking more than a little confused. 

“Ah Dean, this is somebody’s home, not likely to find a black dog in there.” Sam sat there for a moment looking at Dean, expecting an answer, clever comeback, or something smart-assed, but what he got was Dean looking straight ahead, simply holding up a key. 

“Dean, what…” 

“Just open the door Sam,” he said, putting the key in Sam’s hand. 

Sam started to say something else, and then thought twice about it when he looked at Dean’s face.  The look there said this was important to his brother, so he shut up and quietly got out of the car. He waited for Dean to come around beside him and Dean looked at him with a softness in his eyes that never ceased to amaze him.  He knew no one else got to see that look.  They got the hard-ass Dean Winchester.  Sam got that too, but he got the rest of the package as well. 

Sam walked up the steps and waited for his brother to come along. 

“You first baby,” was all he heard whispered. 

Sam stood there for a moment, knowing that Dean would never put him in danger, so he knew it was safe, but he was still nervous.  Dean was being way too cryptic.    

Quietly, he put the key in the door and nudged it open.  The room in front of him was lit with a soft glow from a lantern and for what felt like an eternity, he stood in the doorway, staring straight ahead at the small handwritten banner hanging slightly askew from the window across from him.  It read simply “Welcome home Sam and Dean”.  Nestled in the corner, was a small Christmas tree.  It was beautiful with various ornaments carefully hung from its branches.

Dean was getting really nervous, Sam hadn’t said a word, done anything. “Sam?”   

Sam swallowed hard, trying to get himself under control.  He knew his voice was going to betray him if he tried to speak, so he just turned to look at the man who had always given him everything. 

“Sammy, is-is it okay?” 

“God Dean is it…yes…come here and look at it.”  He held his hand out for his brother. 

They stood just inside the threshold of their new home. It was an actual log cabin, a single floor with rooms branching off a hallway from the living room.  Dean watched as Sam wandered around looking at everything.  He noticed that each wall had various protection symbols painted on it, and there was a texture around each window that took them a minute to realize was salt; varnished salt, to be exact.  Nothing evil was ever getting in here. There was a mantel above the living room fireplace.  It held a few photos, and Sam had picked up one that even Dean had never seen before.  It was of their family, out on a picnic.  Dean was holding a baby Sammy on his lap as their mom wrapped her arms around both of them, with their dad doing the same around her shoulders.  Each protecting and loving the others.  Sam carefully placed it back on the mantel and turned to Dean.  He wiped away a few tears that he couldn’t contain. 

“This is amazing Dean.  I really don’t know what to say.” 

“Wow, I left my baby brother speechless, good day for me.” 

Sam knew what Dean was doing; hiding behind a smart-assed comment to avoid his emotions, but Sam didn’t want that now. 

“Dean, don’t do that, not now.” 

“Sorry, instinct I guess.” 

“How did you do this, this is…” his voice trailed off, as he really didn’t have words for what he felt. 

“Do you really like it Sam, I mean really?” 

Sam moved to press himself against Dean, reaching around to hold him tightly.  “Yes Dean, I really do.  More than like it, baby, I love it.  I would live in a box if it meant being with you, you know that.  Anywhere you are is my home, but this is amazing.  So are you for doing this.  I can’t even begin to know how.” 

“It was easier than you think.  Go see if they put any beer in the fridge while I get a fire going. Then, since it is almost Christmas, you get a chick-flick moment.” 

Sam smiled, let go of him, and headed for the kitchen.  The fridge was indeed stocked with the necessities and enough food to get them through the holiday.  He grabbed two beers and headed for the couch. 

Dean had started a fire and Sam could already feel the heat radiating out into the room as he nestled into the sofa.  It was one of those big, slightly overstuffed ones that just invited you to sit and relax.  That was something they never did.  Dean joined him once he was satisfied with the fire.  Sam handed him his beer and turned to sit facing him. 

 “Just let me say this Sam. I need to get it all out at once, cuz you know I suck at this stuff.” 

Sam knew that wasn’t true.  Dean was a very emotional person.  He had just been taught that emotions were a weakness, a liability even.  But no one had ever been more caring than his brother.  

“Take your time, Dean.” 

Dean slowly told Sam how he came up with the idea, and how it all came to be.  Sam sat there in a stunned silence as he listened to him explain that dad had a life insurance policy for them, the same dad who never seemed to want anything more than a life on the road for any man named Winchester.  Sometimes that man was more confusing than Dean.  Dean told him how Missouri and Bobby had gotten the place ready for them, but stopped short of doing it all since he wanted to make it their home together.  

Not wanting to interrupt, Sam gently took Dean’s hand and squeezed it tight in his, hopefully conveying how much that meant to him.  

When Dean finally finished he just looked at Sam.  He knew the question Sam wanted to ask, and he hoped he was ready for it. 

“Go ahead Sammy, ask me.” 

“What does this mean for us Dean?” 

Dean scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “It means we have a place, a home to come to when it gets to be too much out there.”  Sam nodded and waited.  “I can’t tell you I’m ready to stop hunting, though.  It’s who I am, and as much as I want this to be a real home, as much as I want a life here with you, I just don’t think I can stop that part of me. Someday I know we will, but is it okay to just make this first step now? Is..is that okay?  Is that enough?” 

Sam knew better than anyone that Dean rarely showed his vulnerabilities.  For him to do this was huge so he simply smiled at him and quietly said “Of course it’s enough.  As much as I bitch about it, hunting is what we do.  I can’t really imagine a life without it anymore, either.  But this will be a real home, full of us and some peace.  You deserve some peace in your life.  We can make that happen here.” 

Dean visibly relaxed and after a moment, stood up. “There’s one more room you need to see.” and he held out a hand for Sam to join him.  

He led him down the short hallway to their bedroom.  It was perfect.  They had a king-size bed with a mahogany headboard.  The floor had a black carpet spread across it for warmth, and there was a leather recliner in the corner.  Just as Dean had asked, it was decorated with deep midnight blues and blacks, giving it a very sensual and earthy feel.  It fit them.  Dean pulled Sam toward the bed and gently lay down with him. 

“I love you Sam,” Dean said quietly as he placed a kiss gently on his brother's lips. 

“God, I love you too Dean, more than anything in this world or the next,” Sam told him as he pulled Dean on top of him. “My favorite way to keep warm, with a Dean blanket,” he whispered as he undulated his hips, feeling Dean start to harden above him. 

“Oh I think I can do better than warm Sammy, I think I can make you hot.” 

“Yeah, Dean, just….” His words were cut off by Dean’s lips brushing against his, ever so gently, yet he felt them everywhere. 

For long moments, they just luxuriated in each other.  Tasting, touching, and loving each other while slipping clothes from their bodies until both men were naked. 

For a moment, Dean leaned back and just took in the view. Sam’s beautiful body was strong.  All gorgeous angles and taught skin wrapped around hard muscle.  His skin bronzed by the sun. He could smell the spiced, earthy scent that belonged only to Sam. Dean smiled, just the thought of that scent made his cock stir and the memory of all the orgasms he’d had nuzzled into Sam’s neck, biting the tender flesh there, made his blood race. 

Sam looked at him with dark eyes and smirked when he saw Dean’s expression. “You’ve seen me naked a gazillion times. It can’t be that fascinating.” 

“Hmmmm,” Dean hummed as he leaned forward and placed his hands beside Sam’s neck, gently caressing the skin there and tracing random patterns over his pulse points, drawing a long low moan from his brother.  Dean knew what that particular touch did to Sam. Something about caressing his neck intensified Sam’s arousal ten-fold.  He pressed his chest into his brother’s and let him feel the heat of his straining erection. He whispered into his ear as he licked along the lobe “I love seeing you like this Sammy, it’s one of the few pleasures in my life.” 

“God Dean, need you.” 

Sam’s long fingers stroked decadently, kneading into Dean’s skin, caressing it, bringing up sensations from deep within him. His tongue slipped into the sensitive cleft behind Dean’s ear and licked before moving to the lobe. Dean moaned when Sam suckled that soft bit of flesh into his mouth and shuddered when he felt the graze of teeth over skin. He let himself be held, coming undone with Sam’s sensual touch as his cock lengthened and dripped pearls of fluid. 

“Mmmm, Sammy,” 

Sam sucked his earlobe noisily in response, knowing Dean loved that sound. The combination of sensations and sounds in his ear like that was so erotic it made him gasp. 

His long fingers massaged Dean’s firm butt cheeks, teasing the skin, trailing a finger around the base of his spine.  His brother’s sensual touch had Dean’s mind disengaging.  All he was aware of was his brother’s hands caressing his hips, rubbing in erratic circles on his way up his sides. All the while, Sam never stopped his attention on Dean’s earlobe, his own breath picking up speed as his arousal grew. 

Sam pressed his body into Dean’s from beneath and Dean shifted, giving his brother’s cock access to the silky space between his legs. Sam let out an uneven, excited moan and thrust forward, his hard cock hot and demanding against Dean’s inner thighs and balls. His hands clutched Dean’s chest, rubbing his nipples hard, making them pebble up almost instantly. Sam continued to rub his cock between Dean’s legs with long, deep plunges that became increasingly erratic as he hovered near orgasm. He felt Sam trembling against him, groaning nonsense. Dean moaned with him, knowing how much this specific contact was arousing his brother. That sensation went back to the earliest days of their relationship.  The base of them was in that feeling, that particular pleasure. He quivered from the onslaught of pleasures as he felt Sam’s hand stroke down and then felt his fingers on his cock, stroking, tugging, and gently teasing until he was shuddering on the verge of his own release. 

Gradually, Sam moved his hand across Dean’s hip and returned to his butt. He felt Sam reach between his legs and press his fingers inside him.  As Sam worked him open, they were beyond needing to come, they were at that moment, cresting the wave of blissful arousal and they were just men of sensation and pleasure, not masterful killers of evil in the night.  They had no fate other than what was here in this room, each other.   

Dean felt Sam at his entrance, so hard and ready.  He was open for him, aching to have him inside, to feel the heat of this passion burn into him.  He rose up slightly and lowered himself in a continual slow descent onto Sam's cock.  Their mutual moans echoed around them as they let the feeling of completion wash over them.  Sam waited, instinctively knowing Dean’s body language and giving him anything he needed to take.  Their bodies knew this intimate dance and when Dean’s moved, Sam’s did too.  Sam felt the tightness squeeze around him, driving him ever closer to the edge, but Sam wouldn’t go over.  He wanted them to climax together. 

He closed his right hand around Dean’s cock and his fingers resumed their rhythm. He stroked to match his thrusts into Dean's prostate, both moaning words that only they understood. 

The moment snatched them both in the same instant and they ground together, bowing and arching into each other as the world got suddenly grayer. Their throaty moans echoed in their ears along with pounding heartbeats and racing pulses as they pumped hot fluid until they were spent. Dean felt his little brother squeeze against him, his right hand slipping away from Dean’s cock and stroking along his back, soothing and calming him bringing him back. Dean closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, smiling a little as he felt the trickle of Sam’s come. 

They curled into each other, neither caring that they were sweaty and sticky, that could be dealt with later with a shower.  Right now this was what they needed more.  Just to be still and safe with each other. 

Dean felt Sam stir a few hours later and tried to pull him in, coax him back to sleep.  He was just drifting off again when he felt a gentle kiss to his temple and then Sam was up.    

“Aww Sammy, it's like two in the morning, come back to bed,” he groaned. 

“I will soon, I’m just gonna get something to drink.  Go back to sleep,” Sam whispered and then padded out of the room and down the hall.  Sleep was always elusive for him, but maybe here he could finally rest.  He would try. 

He got a quick drink and looked around.  This was a good place.  Strong and silent, like Dean.  It represented him well, and he could see him being happy here.  That was all he ever truly wanted now, for Dean to be happy.  Smiling to himself, he headed back to their room and gently lay back down.  He loved the soft noises Dean was making in his sleep and let them lull him back to sleep.    

Dean woke with the sun and smiled at Sam lying next to him.  Lying together like this was when Dean allowed himself some self-indulgence, moments when he let himself marvel at how lucky he truly was to have this.  Lucky to have this man lying next to him, limbs twined with his, just as the tendrils of their love twined around his heart, anchoring him in a way he never thought possible. With him by his side he could be anywhere, fighting whatever evil had made itself known, and it was still good.  Sam had surpassed him in height and weight long ago, but he fit perfectly.  Head ducked to nestle just there in that spot at the crook of his neck that had been claimed as his. No one else ever nestled there, no random one night stand from long ago ever got close because that spot meant trust, trusting enough to fall asleep, to let his guard down and relax, and that only happened with his Sammy.   

In quiet times like this, when he was alone with his thoughts, he sometimes wondered if this was what his father had missed the most after losing their mom.  The piece that made life bearable, that made things function.  He knew in his heart that it was.  It was the missing thing that had made his father cold and hardened to the world.  He knew it because if he ever lost Sammy, he would be the same way.  Nothing could make that better, no one, no thing could ever replace the piece that completed his life puzzle. He would fight to the death to keep this, and he knew it was the same for Sam.  Neither could exist without the other. They never really could, and God knows they tried.  Tried to fight the quiet pull of longing, resist the indescribable need within to be with each other, to deny what was seemingly destined.  When they gave in and let it happen, they had long ago found the kind of home that didn’t have walls.  Now after a winding journey, that home had walls, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
